


A Romantic Getaway

by quadrotriticale



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: F/F, POV Jadzia Dax, POV Second Person, Rating May Change, haven't decided how in depth i want to go with this yet., i sort of want to tag this as slow burn but knowing me it wont be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-07-04 19:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15848274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quadrotriticale/pseuds/quadrotriticale
Summary: Kira & Dax go on vacation.





	1. Vacation

**Author's Note:**

> this has been sitting unfinished in my docs for a while so i hammered it out and posted it; it's going to be a chapter fic which is a big part of the reason i was stalling. theres an actual plot sort of and im awful at that but whatever. here u go.

“You didn’t have to come to Bajor with me.” Out of uniform, Nerys relaxes in a way you aren’t entirely familiar with. The tension she always seems to hold in her shoulders, in her back, in her jaw, dissolves away. You noticed it on the runabout earlier, but it’s even more obvious to you now, on the surface of the planet. The air is fresh, carries a sweet scent that you can’t place, and you flash her a warm smile. 

“I needed some time off,” you respond. “The station just gets so stuffy sometimes! And Bajor is beautiful, I’ll take any chance I get to come down here.” She smiles, and you’re every bit as smitten with her as you were an hour ago, which is a point in the column of consistency. You follow her down a wooded path, matted grass soft under your bare feet, shoes, abandoned awhile back, tucked in your bag. You’re glad she suggested landing the runabout a ways off from the cottage you were going to be staying in, it’s beautiful out.

You round a bend eventually, the cottage comes into view, and you think it’s every bit as beautiful as you pictured it. It’s a stout, dark, wooden building sat comfortably in a clearing on the edge of a stream, second floor balcony overlooking the trickling water. The door looks like it’s just tall enough for you to get inside without having to crouch, and you’d guess just by looking at it that the ceiling’s going to be a little closer to the top of your head than you’re used to, but you can live with that. You’re a Trill, after all, and this place was built by and for Bajorans. You catch thick, cream coloured drapes blocking out the windows, admire the domed roof briefly. You wonder if it’s going to be as charming on the inside as it is on the outside. 

“Oh, Nerys, I _love_ it!” you exclaim, and a little voice in your head that isn’t _you_ , isn’t Jadzia, says that it’s downright romantic. You agree, frankly, so you tell Nerys. Her whole face goes red and she giggles, awkward and shy and _adorable_.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” she agrees, heads towards the door. “Come on, do you want to see inside?” You absolutely do. You hurry after her, grinning ear to ear. She took you on a romantic getaway, didn’t she. Awww, jeez. You think it’s time to step up your flirting game, you think it’s time to make it glaringly obvious that you’re down, if she is. You think it’s cute that she’s being so obvious. 

She unlocks the door, little number lock touchpad above the handle beeping at you as she taps it. The door frame is just tall enough that you don’t have to duck, but short enough that you do anyway. The inside, you find, is just as beautiful as you thought it was going to be. You flit about the main room, bag still slung over your shoulder, admiring the wooden furniture and the rustic feel of it. You tell her you _love_ it and she smiles, sort of trails after you as you explore. The couch is going to be comfortable, you can already tell, plush cushions under a soft, knitted blanket. You admire the table in the kitchen, and the chairs, and the counters, and then you admire the metal stove, and the stairs to the second floor, and the paintings and photos hung on the walls. 

“It’s all hand-made,” she tells you, sounding a little shy. “My friend put a lot of love into this place, but he’s a bit too old to get out here too often now.” 

“Nerys,” you start, ducking as you begin to climb the stairs so as not to knock your head on the ceiling, “it’s _beautiful_ , I can’t believe this is where we’re staying! And for a whole week! You didn’t tell me it looked like this!” 

Her face flushes again and she grins, wrinkles her nose and rubs the back of her neck as she trails after you. She’s going to kill you, she’s so cute. “I sort of wanted it to be a surprise.” 

“Consider me surprised, then, I love it!” you exclaim as you make your way to the second floor landing. The bathroom is up here, you notice as you start to poke your head into the couple of doors. It’s cute, for a bathroom. You poke your head into another door, find a small bedroom, taken up mostly by a large, extremely soft looking bed, a large painting hung above the top of it depicting what you’re fairly certain is the capital of Dahkur province. It’s cute too, but you know enough about homes to know this isn’t the master bedroom, and your ultimate goal in the week you have here, is to get into her bed, whether that’s just to cuddle or for… well, you’d rather not get ahead of yourself. You’d happily settle with cuddling. You poke your head in the last door, pleased to find that this is, indeed, the location of the master bedroom. It’s bigger, more spacious, a couple chairs and a little table in the corner, a bookshelf against the wall, photo of a garden hung above the bed. And, of course, the doors to the balcony. You shut the door, put your hands on your hips, and turn back to Nerys with a mischievous grin on your face. 

“Two bedrooms, huh,” you start, “and that one’s so much nicer than the other one! I just don’t think it’d be fair for one of us to have to sleep in the smaller one.” Her face goes bright red, again, and she looks a little startled. “We’ll just have to share.” You think she almost had a heart attack. She starts to stutter a response, and you break into a fit of giggles. “I’m just teasing you, Nerys, I’ll take the other one, you can have this one. I’m coming in for that balcony though, you’ve _got_ to share that.” You begin to make a plan to kiss her on the balcony. You refuse to go back to the station without some juicy gossip and a workplace romance, frankly, that would just be poor planning. And you’re very sure she’s as smitten with you as you are with her, if her reactions mean anything at all. 

“A-Alright, that works,” she manages to get out, and you smile at her, brush past to dump your bag in the other room. She sets her things in her room, which you’re very determined to make _your_ room before the end of the week, and you meet her back in the middle of the hall. 

“So,” you start, “lunch?”


	2. Lunch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took like 15 years to post college sucks and this is my last day off before i go back so i was like yeah ill write and so you get this meandering piece of garbage i've had sitting in my docs for 5 months. didn't proof read that's probably painfully obvious

You didn’t see it before, but there’s a little fire pit behind the cottage. It doesn’t require wood even if it looks as rustic as the rest of the place does, there’s a little button on the side that you almost can’t see that Nerys uses to turn it on, but for you, that hardly shatters the illusion. You ask her why you don’t just get something from the replicator, and she tells you she’s still going to get the ingredients there, but she’s going to cook it instead. Something about never having a chance to cook on the station, something about how Ben showed her how to make some human dish you’re sure you’ve heard him go on about before that she really enjoyed and wants to try herself. You think it’s cute. She goes inside to get her ingredients, and you go inside to get chairs. You still aren’t wearing shoes, and you don’t plan to change that. 

By the time you’ve found a few folding chairs in the cupboard beneath the stairs, managed to get them out back, she’s already set up a grill, already puzzling over the pot and the pseudo-meat she’s placed on it. You prop up a chair for her and then one for yourself, sit down, and draw your legs up. 

“Are you sure you know how to make this?” you tease, “do I need to go get the runabout so you can call Ben? I’m sure he’d be happy to help.” You blatantly refuse to call your captain “captain” at every possible opportunity, and it occasionally makes people uncomfortable. 

“No, no,” she waves you off, slowly starts placing things in her pot, stirs it was a spoon. “I can make this, it wasn’t that complicated, but it was really good.” You think it’s cute that she’s trying to cook for you. You set your elbow on your knee, your chin on your hand. 

“I don’t know how well a Bajoran replicator can reproduce human food, though,” you comment, watch her flit around and start to add things to her dish. 

She glances up at you, hesitates for a moment before speaking. “Well, I didn’t use all human food… I could get the rice, and I don’t know an easy analog to shrimp or oregano from Bajor so I tried to get those, I don’t know how well that turned out, but I didn’t use chicken…”

“You’re changing his recipes?” you grin, amused.

“I don’t like chicken!” she protests, frowning at you briefly before returning to her cooking.

“I’m just teasing, Nerys. I’m not a big fan of chicken either, but don’t tell him that.”

She laughs a little, “I won’t, as long as you don’t tell him I don’t.” 

“Deal.”

You continue to chat while she cooks, pass time amicably while she stirs her pot, adds different ingredients to it. You know she’s done when she realizes she forgot to bring out bowls, and disappears back into the cottage. You take this time to test her creation- which you now know to be her own spin on jambalaya, you’re definitely telling Ben about this when you get home- and decide that it isn’t terrible, and you can at least pretend to enjoy it. You’re sitting again when she comes back, pretending like you haven’t moved. She spoons some of her creation into two bowls and passes one to you, grabs her own and takes a seat in the chair you brought out for her. She looks at you expectantly, and you’re puzzled for a moment before you remember that she expects you to take the first bite, since she cooked it for you. 

You get some on your fork, put it in your mouth, and make a big deal about tasting it, mulling over whether you like it or not even though you’ve already tried it. She doesn’t need to know that, of course. You swallow, give her a wide smile. 

“It’s delicious, Nerys,” you tell her. You’re not completely lying, it isn’t bad. She absolutely beams, and you’re more than content with your half-lie. You approve of anything that gets that kind of smile out of her. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“A little,” she says, smiling down at her bowl now. “I learnt basics when I was younger, since we didn’t always have replicators on hand. I just don’t have time much anymore, we’re so busy on the station.” 

“Well,” you start, “you’ll have to cook for me more often, you’re pretty good at it and I’d really hate to see a talent like that go to waste.” Her face flushes, and she busies herself with her food. You almost giggle at her, busy yourself with another mouthful to keep from embarrassing her.

You chat while you eat, you through mouthfuls of food and her when she can spare a minute to say something, which means you finish before she does, wait patiently beside her for her to be done. You help her clean up after, shut the firepit off, clean the grill, put everything that needs to be recycled back in the replicator. 

“We should go for a hike,” you tell her once all the cleaning is done, leaning up against the counter in the kitchen. “I’d hate to spend all out time down here inside, and it’s such a nice day out… We could make an afternoon out of it!”

She mulls it over, considers it long enough that you assume she had something else planned for the evening, but she looks at you and smiles after a beat anyway. “That sounds like a good idea,” she agrees. 

“Yeah! Alright, alright, uhh… I’ll go throw a bag together, and… do you want to replicate us something for dinner? Just in case we’re out that long.”

You hurry upstairs, gather some things from your room to throw in a backpack- a first aid kit, a pair of shoes just in case you feel the need to put something on your feet, a canteen for water. When you come down, she’s wrapped some hasperat in cloth and places it carefully on top of the things in your bag. Now, you don’t particularly like hasperat, but you’re on Bajor, and you know that thing isn’t going to make Trill food, or Klingon food. The only reason it knows how to make any human food is because of the station and Starfleet’s penchant for having crews that consist mostly of humans. You’re certainly not going to complain about it. Really, it’s not like it’s something you can’t stomach. 

For most of the early afternoon, your walk is peaceful. There isn’t really a path into the woods, and she’s only marginally more familiar with the landscape than you are, so you try to keep within sight of the stream, it’d be an easy thing to follow back to your cottage. You chat, about life and about work, try to make plans to do dinner sometime after you get back to DS9. She suggests one of the restaurants on the promenade, maybe the Klingon one would be nice, and she had never tried the Bolian restaurant, maybe that would be interesting? You suggest that, maybe, you could just do dinner in her quarters? You’d love it if she would cook for you again. Her face goes a little red and she agrees to that. (You suggest next Friday, maybe… 1800 hours. She tells you “then it’s a date,” and if you have any say in it, it will be.)

To you, when it starts to rain, it’s very sudden. You hadn’t been watching the sky, and it had darkened so gradually, you almost hadn’t noticed. You see the ripples in the water of the stream before you feel it on your skin, hear the quiet patter on the leaves before it really occurs to you that it’s raining.

She swears, a word your translator can’t convert into Trill (It’s kind of nice to hear her actual voice, and not some translated approximation dubbed over into your ear. She sounds… different, very alien to you, and you consider turning your translator off all together just to be able to hear her voice naturally. You wonder if she speaks any language you know well enough to communicate.) You move to the base of a tree, hoping to hide from the worst of the rain under the leaves. You set yourself down on the grass, your bag in your lap, and she sits cross legged beside you. The difference in height is a lot more obvious to you, sitting like this, so you slouch a little bit for your own comfort. You sort of tower over her already, you like it even less sitting down. 

“So…” a drop of water drips from the leaves above your head, splashes onto your arm, and you frown at it. “...Dinner?”


End file.
